


Sons of Beaches

by n7s



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Funny, One Shot, batfamily, beach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2015-06-07
Packaged: 2018-04-03 08:13:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4093576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/n7s/pseuds/n7s
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the Wayne family decides to head to the beach, it's an absolutely serious business.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sons of Beaches

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr prompts make the world go round.

Mainly because he never had the time for anything but patrolling Gotham, Batman rarely found himself at the beach. Sure, the Gazette had numerous archived photographs showing Bruce Wayne, Gotham’s prodigal son hanging out at some exotic beach, reckless and forever young, with one or two women by his side, and two months ago he _did_ visit Cape Verde’s golden sand plains on his own volition… but doctored photographs by Pennyworth didn’t speak the truth, and official Justice League business in an attempt to stop a horde of hydro-kinetic, man-eating robots about to destroy one fifth of the northern hemisphere just didn’t count in Dick Grayson’s book.

July 5th, Tuesday evening, is the day Dick convinces him. He doesn’t know exactly how he manages it so swiftly, but after barely ten minutes of a well thought-out monologue he practiced with Alfred before heading down the cave, while a very amused Damian Wayne was laughing hysterically in the background, Bruce only says, “Fine.”

“Fine?” Dick echoes.

“Yes.”

“That’s it?” He looks left and right as if someone will appear from the shadowy corners that the LED lights don’t reach and give him the answer he’s looking for. “We… won’t be in costume. You got that, right? I meant just… hanging out. At the beach. Like normal people.” He lowers his voice as if he is about to mutter something unholy. “ _For fun._ ”

The black desk chair, forever creaking and making noises with every slight move, stays silent as Bruce turns to face him. He had never fixed it even though every Robin remembered the same quirky chair making skittish noises that reverberated in the vastness of the batcave, and everybody had pointed out how very unlike him that was. Fixing things was his thing, after all. Then, after countless theories of a Batman that just couldn’t tend to every detail when it wasn’t all that life-threatening and a bit silly if honestly admitted, Jason finally pitched in, “It never makes a noise when _he_ ’s sitting in it. He hasn’t fixed it on purpose.” Nobody said anything at the time, yet everyone felt the creep factor get raised by five points.

“Is fine not the correct term anymore?”

“It is.” Dick feels himself laughing, a high throaty pitch, but he isn’t doing it on purpose. He’s accustomed to Bruce’s bossy demeanor even when he’s not in costume, and his nerves rarely get wrecked around him anymore, but this was too easy and, if he’s honest with himself, he didn’t expect him to agree. Alfred didn’t either. “I just thought…” _You’d say no. You wouldn’t say anything. Maybe throw a lamp or something?_ “No. Okay. Fine. Fine’s good. Fine’s fine.” He takes a few steps backwards, smiling. “We leave at nine-thirty, tomorrow morning. I’ll arrange the food part with Alf. You just… nothing. You do nothing,” now he’s grinning, “I’ll arrange everything, you just bring yourself to the beach.”

Dick doesn’t see him because he’s already storming up the stairs but Bruce Wayne actually rolls his eyes _with a smile_.

—

“Master Bruce, if I may say, this was a wonderful idea.”

“The idea was actually mine, Alfred.”

“Oh, I know about the beach, Master Richard. I was talking about bringing two different cars,” Alfred points to where the two silk black cars are parked at the start of the beach, way behind them. “Just today, I found out about a whole new branch in the English language full of foul words that I had never thought existed before. I can only imagine what would happen if young Master Damian was actually in the same car as Jason.”

Bruce, eyes always where everybody’s swimming, spots Jason laughing sarcastically at something Barbara has said. He’s splashing water everywhere despite Stephanie insisting that she will put her foot so far up his ass, his tongue will grow toes. “You could have stayed at home, Alfred. I told you we had everything covered here.”

“On the contrary, sir, it has been quite the educational morning. Despite,” he puts on his sunglasses and turns his head upwards, content smile on his lips, “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

“ _JASON!_ ” Stephanie’s scream fills the air violently and it’s a good thing nobody’s around because she sounds royally pissed. She looks the part too.

“Stephanie,” Jason replies calmly. His arms are mid-air, ready to resume throwing sea water at everybody’s noses.

“If you don’t cut this out, I’ll—”

“I can take you anytime, sweetie.”

“—unleash Cass on you.”

There’s a pause from both sides and Cassandra doesn’t say anything. Submerged with salt water up to her lips, eyes carefully assessing everyone, she turns her eyes to Jason who’s looking at her very, very carefully. She hasn’t involved herself in anything that’s happened so far and she didn’t intend to either, but something catches her attention; Jason’s body indicates alertness for the first time today and it’s because of her.

“You wouldn’t,” he says in a low tone, not taking his eyes off the girl. He can’t really say because there’s water getting constantly mixed with the sand, but he thinks she’s… smiling?

“No?” Stephanie’s voice has suddenly lost that angry edge and, now getting cocky that the tables are slowly turning, she takes a step closer to Cassandra. Somebody’s getting his ass kicked if they don’t stop being an annoying little shit and it’s going to be glorious. “You know she’s better than you, Jason. Hell, she’s better than all of us. And last time I checked, she’s my friend.”

Tim, somehow finding himself in the middle of a very weird fight (literally, there’s an overly smiling Stephanie to his right and a squinting Jason to his left) after having dived for mere seconds, takes two steps back and stands with half his body still in the water next to Barbara. He notices Dick getting in the sea for the millionth time ( _“It feels better after I’ve stayed under the sun for a while, Timbo”_ ), waving at all of them with a smile, but nobody waves back because there’s Stephanie and Jason posed as if they were cowboys in an old western, and things are getting more confusing than before.

“Okay. What?”

“ _Shh_ ,” Barbara puts her index finger in front of her lips, almost mesmerized by what’s going on. “Just… enjoy.”

“So, what’s it gonna be, tough guy?” Stephanie pressures. “You either stop or we leave this place with one person less.”

“You wouldn’t, Brown.”

“Ohoh, I would and I will, Todd.”

“Whatsa goin’ on?” Dick chimes in before getting shushed by Barbara too. “No, really, we’ve been looking at you and, oh wait—wait are you two fighting?” he notices the cowboy stares. “What’s up?”

There’s silence, nobody says anything, and then there’s a subtle sigh.

“No,” Jason finally says. “No, we’re not.” His body relaxes and he brings his arms down. He glances at Cassandra—still smiling—and he repeats, “No, we’re not.” No need to destroy something good today.

“No,” Stephanie agrees and turns to Dick with a grin. “Apparently we’re not.”

“Cool,” Dick gives a quick kiss to Barbara’s cheek, “because we’d have to interrupt Alfred’s happy time by getting him in here to drag you all out by the ear. I don’t think he’d appreciate that.”

“ _Oh_ , ungratefulness—where’s Damian?” Barbara asks and looks around. “He was here ten minutes ago.”

“Just swimming.”

“And how do you know that, Grayson?” Jason glances at the horizon with a hand over his eyes for shade. “I can’t see the little gremlin and I have, like, 20/20 vision.”

Stephanie mouths his last words mockingly with an overdramatic, scrunched up face.

“Yeah, keep on doin’ that, Brown, I can’t see the difference from your normal face anyway.”

There’s a middle finger rising in the air just as Dick explains, “Bruce has him pinpointed. Don’t worry.”

“He bugged his own son?” Cassie asks. She looks at where Bruce and Alfred are sitting. “ _At the beach?_ ” Despite the distance, she manages to notice it: his left arm slightly strained, always holding something that’s inside a bag next to his chair. He’s really watching at what exact coordinates Damian is right now. She finds herself smiling.

“We’re talking about Satan’s darkspawn,” Tim stretches his arms lazily. “You wouldn’t?”

“He’s probably in Mexico by now anyway,” Jason muses. No admiration in his voice: he’s talking facts.

“Well, until Damian comes back with a soggy edible sombrero, I brought a volleyball in case anyone wants to get their ass kicked by the modern volleyball monster commonly known as Richard John Grayson. First who laughs gets to chase the ball for the rest of the game.”

—

“How long do you think it’ll take them to figure it out?” Alfred later asks, minutes before everybody, including a now returned Damian who didn’t reach Mexico after all, gets out of the water laughing. If someone who didn’t know them were to look at them right at that exact moment, they wouldn’t see something wrong. There wasn’t anything, either.

Bruce looks at him expectantly. “Figure out what?”

“The reason you agreed to this, sir.”

“I’m not sure—”

“You rarely are, Master Bruce, but you certainly still remember the intel that was sent your way three nights ago about the mob that’s been pestering these parts lately?”

“That’s—” Bruce looks at Alfred for a bit longer and then he sighs. _Of course._ He turns his attention to the kids again. “Three hours. Tops.”

“Yes, I did think so.”


End file.
